Red vs Blue: Resurgence
by Roogs
Summary: As Washington's worst fears come to fruition, he must struggle to keep Red and Blue teams alive. When push comes to shove, will old habits die hard?
1. Prologue

Here it is.. mah first ever Fanfiction. I've been a long time read of fanfics, but its only been until recently that I've set my mind into writing one. A couple of notes:

This takes place after Revelation, so if you haven't watched that, you probably won't understand what's going on.

This'll focus heavily on Wash and his interactions with the various Red and Blue Team Members, with special emphasis on Tucker and Sister. Don't worry, the other's will get attention too! )

This is my first fic, so comments or any kind of criticism (as long as its not flaming) is welcome and encouraged. So without further ado, here we go!

_Freelancer Program Simulation Outpost-17 Valhalla_

Agent Washington peered up at the sky in Valhalla (or Valhallagecallit, as certain people had christened it). He was probably paranoid. No, scratch that, definitely paranoid.

Project Freelancer (what was left of it, anyways) thought he was dead, and they certainly wouldn't have any reason to be snooping around the Red or Blue bases in a chilly, boring, wet, valley that probably didn't have a piece of tech that worked anymore (excluding Lopez, who was now sharing a computer hard-drive with Sheila. Wash didn't think either minded the arrangement, but Caboose had thrown one or two fits over it).

His new life wasn't bad, at least, he thought, no one was trying to kill him. Nor was any rogue AI attempting suicide while in his head. Hell, the worst he had to deal with was Donut constantly pointing out (bitching about) that Wash shot him. Wash, at this point, would be happy to turn the pink soldier into Swiss Cheese.

…...

"CABOOSE!" No response. "CABOOSE! YOU'D BETTER GET THE FUCK UP HERE NOW!" Tucker yelled once more. He saw the slightest shadow out of the corner of his eye. He calmed a little bit, though his patience wore thin. _When you get down to it_, Tucker thought, _He's just a big kid. With a gun. In the (fake) army. But still, a kid. _

"Yes Tucker?" The blue rookie asked timidly, just barely peeking around the corner.

Tucker motioned to his in-helmet radio. "That was Simmons. Someone tore apart the Red's computer. Have any idea who?" The rookie slowly shook his head. "You sure?" Caboose kept shaking his head. _Jesus, he's probably forgotten what we were talking about. _"Do you think the fact that orange juice was found in one of the ports is a clue?"

The blue trooper perked up. "Orange juice! Tucker, I… I LOVE orange juice!"

_ Yep, he's forgotten. _"Caboose, focus. The Red's computer. Broken. You did it. Me annoyed."

"Oh yeah," Caboose sighed. "It's Lopez's fault. "

"Goddammit Caboose, when you will get over that?"

"When Lopez understands that every relationship has boundaries, and exchanging data with another person's girlfriend is not..." Caboose paused for a moment, as if thinking his sentence over, "...cool."

Tucker sighed. "Caboose, its time to get your head around it. She's a computer. Lopez is also a computer. It makes sense that they're... bonding." Tucker thought for a moment, wondering if he should let loose his favorite one-liner. _Fuck it, _he thought, _I'll do it next time._

"You know they say the more things change the more they stay the same?" Fuckberries, Tucker had forgotten about Doc, who had just relayed vital (useless) intelligence over the com-link. The purple-clad medic was currently laying in his cot downstairs, reading an inspirational book of some sort. "You should really try thinking out of the box Tucker. In fact, I was just reading-"

"Y'know what, shut the fuck up Doc. Sometimes you can be as aggravating as Caboose. I mean, it seems like, no, the FACT is that the only other sane person here is Wash."

"Hey, where is Wash?" Out of everyone else, the medic had the most respect for Wash. It might have had something to do with the two being stuck together for an extended period of time (to Doc, it seemed like forever) in the desert. Well, the Meta was there, but he wasn't really one for conversation (Wash somehow understood the monstrosity's various snarls, but Doc had no idea how. Maybe it was one of those translator balls…)

Tucker snorted, "He's off being moody somewhere, like he usually is. Dude's gotta learn to kick back."

"Doesn't seem very healthy. Maybe he has some unresolved issues with Epsilon? We should schedule an intervention. Caboose, go get some pencils. We each need to writer a long, pointless essay telling him how concerned we are."

"Okay!" The blue rookie shouted with glee. He liked having new things to do. Plus, whenever Doc was around, he said nice things. Caboose didn't usually understand them, but he appreciated it anyway.

"Doc, what did I say about shutting the fuck up? Now you've got him started, and he's gonna be talking about it until he remembers he can't even write. Which will be never." Tucker hated it when things got like this. Wash was a better mediator than him.

Doc raised his hands in defense, "Okay, sheesh. Don't get your sword all twisted up!"

"Bow chicka bow wow!" Doc stared at Tucker blankly after the poorly thought out sex-joke.

"As I was saying," Doc continued, "You don't need to get all bent out of shape over something that'll blow over in five minutes. _Church_."

"What is that supposed to mean?", a distraught Tucker yelled as Doc walked back downstairs.

…...

Once again, Wash found himself staring down his battle rifle's scope, scanning the skies.

No, they wouldn't be anywhere near Valhalla. As far as Wash knew, the chairman was too concerned with the Director's trial and sentencing to be worried about a couple of rogue simulation troopers. Right?

And yet, Washington had this nagging feeling in the back of his head, that something was very wrong. It was all too easy.

"_Wash, you're gonna learn when you work with us, there's no such thing as 'too easy', really isn't. You're just being paranoid."_

That was when he spotted the surveillance plane.

…...

The Chairman marched down the halls in his refined, British-style. He very much looked forward to seeing Agent Washington's body. Not so much that he could see what was recorded in his communication logs, but so he could simply spit on it. Agent Washington was a failure. To the director and now to the Chairman. He should known better than too send a degenerate like David Whatshisname after something of so high a value. Even if he was the only one who knew Epsilon's location, there were other ways to acquire that information (torture came to mind).

So the last thing that he was concerned with was "cause of death." Nonetheless, it is what _protocol _dictated.

"Greetings Medical Officer Manning. Please state subjects name and cause of death."

The medic, clad in white armor with red trim, hesitated. "Subject: Agent Washington. Cause of death: Mechanical failure."

The Chairman was very, very unhappy about this.

In a dramatic huff, he turned to one of his various assistants. " I'm going to need every available resource remaining from Project Freelancer, be it manpower, vehicles, intelligence, or whatever! Also, I'm going to need you to contact Holding Facility 436. I'd like to speak with it's..." the slightest grimace was visible on his aged, English face, "detainees."


	2. Deja Vu Again

The giant screen flickered. Agent Pennsylvania narrowed his eyes. The screen _never _flickered. It was a general rule, although Pennsylvania thought it had less to do with the fact that no one was ever supposed to know about this facility, and more to do with that it had never even received a message of any kind. He chuckled quietly to himself, _It's not like the Chairman to hold to his word anyways. _

The screen turned on, lighting up the otherwise gloomy prison. Prison, he remembered the Chairman saying as they were forcefully shoved into their cells, was an inadequate term for the facility. It only held five people.

Oklahoma was looking at the screen as well, distracted from his usual violent ramblings. His partner, Indy, didn't seem very concerned at all, with an expression that said "It's about time!"

The screen fuzzed a bit, and then the picture began to clear up. _Think of the devil. _He glanced at his roommate Louie, who was staring intently at the screen, which now displayed the Chairman's unpleasant face.

"Agents Indiana, Louisiana, Oklahoma, and Pennsylvania." He forced a smile. "I assume you are familiar with Agent Washington?"

…...

Washington was currently sprinting towards Blue Base as fast as he could, reviewing what he would have to do. _First thing: Alert the others of the situation and tell them to pack up. Second: Tell the reds. Third: Find Someplace to hole up and start a battle strategy_. Wash knew what the Chairman would do. He would send his men, and kill every last one of them, starting with Washington himself.

_I don't have to tell them, _He thought darkly, _They are kind of dead weight. _But then he remembered. They helped him, for practically no reason other than that they were good people. _Jackasses and goof-ups, _he reminded himself, _but still, good people. _

"Blue team," he shouted through his loudspeaker, "Front and center!"

"What the fuck is this Wash? What are we, the _real _army?"

"You are now." Wash looked at Doc and Caboose, who were both standing tall, saluting him. He guessed this was probably more out of fear than it was respect. Tucker was the only one not saluting. He just stood there, (defiantly) relaxing. _Oh God, _Wash thought, _I don't have very much to work with._

"Get your things packed, we're heading out. A lot of soldiers are going to be here, looking for _us. _Doc and Tucker, take inventory. Caboose, you come with me over to Red Base." Washington stared at the Blue rookie, waiting for him to break the salute. "Err… at ease soldier."

"Oh thank God." Caboose breathed heavily, then joined Washington in hurrying over to Red Base.

…...

"Uh oh." Donut said, peering through the sniper's scope. The Blue's never brought good news, and Washington wasn't someone Donut _ever _liked to see.

Grif, who was, until Donut spoke, perfecting the art of sleeping standing up, woke up, frightened. "What? What's going on? Is it a bad guy?"

"Umm, define "bad guy"?"

"Give me that." Grif asserted, taking the sniper. "It's my watch duty anyway."

"Yeah, but you always fall asleep 10 minutes into it. That's why Sarge sends me up here with you. And frankly, I think its rude that you make me do this for you, after all the time we spend picking out colors for your room."

"Shh Donut. I told you to never talk about that. People might get ideas."

"What kind of ideas might people get?" Donut asked, quite naively.

Grif stared blankly at his pink comrade before speaking. "So about the bad guys?"

"Don't ask me! Look for yourself! That is, unless, you don't want to get _ideas._"

"That didn't even make any sense." Grif stated harshly, before looking down the scope. He then smiled at his teammate's gullibility. "There's nothing to worry about Donut, it's just Caboose and Wash."

"Well what if they're attacking?"

"They're not, for two reasons. One, Red vs. Blue is fake, remember? We're just simulation guys. And two, who's goes into battle with _Caboose _as back-up? That's like, suicide, or something."

"Wow Grif, what an _idea._"

"…Shut up Donut."

…...

Washington finished his explanation. He looked around the room, waiting for a response. Sarge spoke first.

"Son, why should we go with you? I'm not willing to sacrifice my men for your hide. Nor am I willing to let them hide with you for your hide."

Wash shook his head. "You don't get it. When you hid me from the authorities, you were harboring a felon. A criminal. They'll have orders to kill anyone stationed in this area."

Sarge paused, thinking. "Okay." Even though Wash could not see the old man's face, he could sense the concern he had for his men - and Donut. Regardless, Sarge regained his composure, and then began to bark orders at the troops "Private Grif, inventory, Donut, resume position as girliest member of the team, Simmons, before you even ask, yes, permission to kiss ass granted." Sarge glanced around the base. "Where is Simmons? Doesn't he know that he should always stand by with a rocket launcher when negotiations are held?" Sarge turned to Wash and Caboose, and said weakly, "Heh, heh, You weren't supposed to hear that."

The discussion was cut short, however, by Simmons' yelling in the background.

"You guys had better come see this. Tell Grif not to freak out, but his Sister is in a coma."

Grif's eyes widened, "W-what?" In a flash, he was headed towards the beach, where Simmons' voice came from.

Sure enough, when he got there, he saw his little sister sprawled in the sand, motionless with a small trickle of blood leaking out of her side.

While the rest of the Reds gathered around Sister, Sarge phoned Doc, requesting him over for medical "dohickeys", as he called it.

Wash turned to Caboose. "Who's Sister?"

Caboose looked at Wash as if he were dumb. "Sister is Grif's sister Wash, pay attention."

Wash sighed. "Is she a Red or a Blue?"

"She is Blue. She was with us in Blood Gulch and then when we left she stayed there. She was kinda angry with us after that. Said something about 'not needing us' and 'throwing a huge party'. Oh, and she also said she was gonna get hammered, whatever that means, and suck lots of-"

"Okay, I get the picture." Wash interrupted. He looked on as the Reds continued to asses the situation. "Wait a minute." He saw the faintest hint of yellow among the assortment of armor colors. "Is Sister's armor yellow?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Great." Wash sighed, for the sixth or seventh time that day. Things were not going well.


	3. Old Recruits

Apologies for the late update. Times have been hectic with school and such, the usual culprits.

Now, onto a couple notes that I forgot to add before.

1. Just in case you didn't know, Donut is alive. It was on the sponsor's edition when they disabled recovery mode.

2. Martienne: Yeah, I took that into consideration when I was writing it. Someone's got to be a pissed off pseudo-leader (though I would think Wash, with the most experience, would be the _actual_ leader).

3. The good dr: Things are about to get much more difficult. ;)

…...

Wash stared at the comatose female. _Shit._ He remembered this chick. The was the stupid girl who was yelling at him at Blood Gulch. The one who called him a _cop. _The one with the raving insanity.

_Let's go over this, _he thought to himself. _I have eight people to manage, each whom have minimal actual military experience. Each of whom are going to face every last recovery agent and God knows what else. Yep,_ Washington thought, _we're fucked._

…...

Penn loaded his assault rifle. He glanced up at the screen, which had the Chairman's digitally distorted face displayed on it.

"So all we have to do is tag and bag Wash? And we're free?" He looked over his fellow freelancers. Okie, as he liked to be called, was giving his flamethrower a tune-up. _Jesus, you can practically see the maniacal grin on his face. _

"Yes, but before that you will need to pay a visit to Project Freelancer's Offsite Storage Facility. From there you'll be able to reacquire your armor enhancements, and the remaining Freelancer simulation soldiers and Recovery agents will be en route there as well. They have been given explicit instructions to follow your orders." The frown on his face was evident, even through the distortion. He was not happy about sending any Freelancer out into the world. The moon had cost a couple hundred trillion dollars, which the Director insisted would be well spent on winning the war. But as it turned out, the Director was less concerned with fighting off the Covenant and more concerned with reviving a memory, one of the many reasons the Chairman wondered why military operations were still going on here.

But the last thing the Chairman needed were the Freelancers, with their various psychological problems, running around causing havoc.

"What about me?" The voice came from the back of the room, in a dark cell. It sounded as it the person hadn't spoken in a long time.

The Chairman's camera zoomed in, allowing him to see the figure in the dark.

"Ah, Agent Carolina, I was not aware you were with us. Our last record of you indicates you were KIA."

"Funny how much you rely on paperwork, considering that you regularly distort it."

The Chairman huffed. "Regardless, I doubt that you are psychologically ready for a mission. Having more than one AI in your head can be quite…taxing, can it not?"

Carolina narrowed here eyes. "I'm over it." She said bluntly, though the venom in her voice was evident. "Besides, it looks like you're going to need all the help you can get."

"I believe I need a _professional _opinion. Agent Indiana, you were trained in interrogation techniques and psychoanalysis, correct? What is your analysis?"

Indy looked up, as if he were being snapped out of sleep. "Huh? Oh, Lina? She's cool, I guess." He glanced over to her, smiling underneath his helmet.

"You guess, Indiana?"

"Look," Carolina interceded, "We can sit here and debate my sanity all day, or we can get busy tracking down the rogue agent that _you_ set loose. What's it gonna be?" She stared up at the screen defiantly.

The Chairman sighed. Letting her go along could prove dangerous. Hell, letting any of them outside of the prison was well beyond any definiton of safe. "Very well, get prepped. I expect you all at the Offsite Storage Facility at 15 hundred hours." And with that, the screen shut down.

Lina turned to Indy. "Why'd you stick your neck out for me? I barely even know you."

Indy shrugged. "Because I know you can't be trusted, and having you along might make this a bit more fun." He returned to polishing his giant hammer-ish weapon. This would be amusing.

…...

Sister's vision cleared. She blinked, looking through her cracked visor to see a strange amalgam of colors. Or too her, they seemed like a bunch of shades of grey. Same difference.

Understandably, her first word was "Owww…".

A distraught, panicky voice spoke. "Doc, is she okay? Is she breathing? She's not bleeding? O God, if she is pregnant again I'll kill her!"

She hopped up, and in one swift motion punched her brother in the face. "You calling me a slut, bitch?"

Sarge chuckled. "Hot damn woman. I might make a soldier out of you yet. And Grif! Your weak-ass baby sister just punched you in the face. I didn't think my disappointment in you could sink any lower than it was!"

Grif got up, nursing the newly formed goose-egg on his head. "How're you even alive, Lopez said he killed you!"

Sister shrugged, "All he did was throw a grenade in blue base. Then he packed up and left. To bad too. He had a nice, big, robot-"

Grif raised his hands apprehensively, "That's all I need to hear."

While Simmons made a mental note to check the computers in the caves as soon as possible, Wash decided to intervene.

"This reunion is touching and all, but we have to get moving. Like, now."

Sister looked at Wash and cocked her head. "Have we met before?"

Wash thought over his next words very carefully. "No, no we haven't. Caboose, fill her in on the situation. Caboose?" The blue soldier was gone. "God dammit, where does he go off to?"

"I'm right here." Caboose walked peaked his head out of red base's interior. "And my people would like to talk to your people Agent Washington."

Wash assumed that meant Caboose wanted him inside. "You guys get ready to move in 5 minutes. I'll be right back."

Doc looked at Sister. "So… you need another physical?"

"Fuck off, pig."

An awkward silence ensued. "Soo," Doc decided to break the silence, "How'd you get comatose and wind up here."

"Don't even get me started."

…...

"Greetings Agent Washington."

Washington looked at the computer monitor that was speaking to him. _My life is so fucked up. _"Oh. Hey…there…Sheila."

"Lopez and myself have been monitoring Caboose's vitals, and we have come to the conclusion that his psyche is not functioning at its normal capacity."

"Well no shit. If that's all you have to say, then I'll be going. People are trying to kill me again, so its kind oh important that I leave."

"By that, we mean he is not alone inside his head. We believe one of the many artificial intelligence units he has shared his mind with may…" The computer's eerily cheery voice seemed unsure, "have left something behind. We believe Lopez and I may be able to bring it back."

Then, all three of you could be inside my head. It would be like a sleepover, except in my head, we would never have to run out of snack-cakes!"

"Apologies Caboose, but Lopez and I will not be able to accompany you on this mission. The process would involve transferring all our electrical power to Caboose's helmet-to-brain interface, and then wiping this hard drive clean."

"This isn't happening." Wash stated bluntly.

"Agent Washington, if I understand correctly, you are out of options. You will need as many resources as you can get."

Wash remained silent. "I'll let you do it. But be careful! We don't need Caboose's head messed up more than it already is."

"Affirmative." Shiela stated as Caboose plugged her into his helmet.

"And if you bring back Omega, or the Alpha, I swear-"

"Hey, amigo, no estoy contento con esto o-" Lopez never got to finish his sentence. The monitor went blank, and Caboose's helmet cackled with electricity.

Caboose giggled "My hair is all staticky!"

A green glow then emanated next to Caboose's helmet. If Wash's helmet didn't prevent it from doing so, his jaw would have hit the floor. And if the AI could have smiled, Delta would have.

"Hello, David."

…...

Okay, I lied, things may have gotten a bit easier! :P

A couple more notes

-Yes, I brought back two characters two chapters in a row. I break all the rules.

-Delta PWNS

-Why'd I kill off Shiela and Lopez in one fell swoop? Because there really wasn't anything I could do with them, and Delta is such an interesting character I just felt like I had to.

-I apologize for my writing being a bit awkward. Its my first fic and whatnot, so, yeah.

-This was just to set the stage. From here on its gonna be styled like a bunch of inter-connected one-shots, interrupted by the occasional action scene and plot development.

So there ya have. Review!


	4. Introductions

Wazzup, folks? Yeah, I realize I haven't been real consistent with update times, sorry. My comp busted though, so that's an excuse, right? Right? Anyway, Since its been so long, Ima make this chapter double the length!  
Addressing the people:

Agent Arizona: Technically this isn't Delta. Its more like a memory of Delta. Simmons can explain. Better than me. (Episode references, haha!). But the premise behind this was that Delta, when he was around in Caboose's head, left a portion, or "copy" of his psyche. All that fragment (of a fragment?) needed was a catalyst (ie; Shiela/Lopez)

Martienne: Yeah, I've been a lurker on the RT forums for quite a while. I just may join. Just maybe. ;)

Story ho!

...

He was a worrisome guy, that much Sister could surmise. Wash had spent every waking moment fidgeting and cursing to himself ever since they left Valhalla. Now he was pacing in circles in the small encampment they had found. Tucker, Sarge, Donut, and Simmons had all gone on lookout, so the others were lounging about a pile firewood (fire pending).

"Do you ever, like, calm down, or am I gonna be stuck watching you spaz out for the rest of this trip?" She asked, nonchalantly leaning against a tree.

"This _trip_? Do you have any idea what we're involved in. There's probably an army out there, trying to kill us! I've got to make sure at least half of you make it out alive! Do you know what kind of strain that is, keeping you people alive?"

"Well who died and made you leader? No one asked you to lead. Hell, I didn't even know who you were until a couple hours ago, and now I'm stuck in this," She waved her hands in aggravation, "without a clue what's going on! How do you think I feel?"

"I...guh...grrr..." Washington stalked away, brooding quietly to himself. He glanced back at Sister, and quietly shook his head.

"What's his damage?" She spoke, to no one in particular.

A green hologram fizzed into existence next to Caboose, who was staring off into the forest thinking (or...doing whatever Caboose did when he wasn't talking) about something. "You will have to excuse Agent Washington's behavior, he has been through much in the past with this program, and-"

"**Eeek!**" Sister screamed, somewhat like how a housewife would scream when a mouse crept into the kitchen. "Caboose! What is that thing!"

Caboose turned and looked at her blankly. He slowly lifted his hand to his helmet, clenched it shut, with the exception of his index finger, and replied. "Shhhh." As soon as he finished, he turned back to staring at the woods, focusing intently on something in the distance.

"Kaikaina, you needn't fear me. I am simply a technologically revived remnant of an Artificial Intelligence unit that itself was fragmented from an even more advanced unit who subjected to unimaginable torture."

Sister stood still for several moments, looking at the AI blankly. She then took several steps back and menacingly raised her pistol. Without a moment's haste, she began to fire several rounds into the hologram. Caboose didn't even bother to act surprised to the sound of gunfire, or he simply wasn't paying attention. Delta's avatar fizzed for several moments, and then regained its shape. "I assure you that you have no reason to fire at me, Kaikaina. Not only will your bullets not affect me, but you are also wasting valuable ammunition, of which you are in short supply of." Several more bullets whizzed into the AI's hologram. "Also, the feeling of being shot is unsatisfactory, however immaterial I may be."

Sister stopped shooting, although she still appeared nervous. "Err.. sorry, I guess." She paused, looking at the thing which was mere seconds ago the subject of her rage. "What were you babbling about."  
"I was simply stating how Agent Washington is trying his best to keep us all alive. Right now he must be feeling as if the weight of the world were on his shoulders. You must understand that you are all rather eccentric characters, and your personality quirks could be what some might call 'annoying.'"

"So I'm annoying?"

"I did not say that, I simply made the observation that one may _find_ certain aspects of your personality annoying."

"Right, which means I'm annoying. Thanks...?"

"Although I am not technically the original, I believe you may call me Delta." Delta paused for a moment, and like a broken, repeated, "And I did not say that, I simply made the observation that one may _find_ certain aspects of your personality annoying."

Sister groaned, and decided to change the subject. "So how do you know about our personalities? I've never seen you before."

"I was able to browse through Caboose's memories and extrapolate from there."

Grif, who was currently lounging about under a tree, had caught wind of the last part (though he still did not know what 'extractlocate' meant) He groaned loudly. "Shiiiit..."

Delta vacantly stared at him. "Why would that be an issue?"

...

Tucker peered down at the Valley before. After walking for several minutes, attempting to find a place where he could smoke without interference, he located a massive cliffside. The valley it led into was not unlike Blood Gulch. A barren desert in which no organism with a inkling of self preservation would step in. Tucker sighed. _The good old days._

...

Pennsylvania eyed his fellow freelancers carefully. Carolina was busy testing her equipment, Oklahoma and Louie were chatting idly about how to go about destroying a tank outfitted with a flamethrower in place of the turret (Okie was adamant that anything that spewed fire was unbeatable), and Indy was nowhere to be found. Which concerned Penn very much. Indy was dangerous, in more ways than one.

"Hey Carry!" Louie's New Orlean accent broke Penn's focus. "Where'd y'all find the equipment at? **I wanna go fast!**"

Carolina looked at the overzealous freelancer as if he were a child wasting an adult's time (which he essentially was). "It's over there, behind that wall."

"Suh-weet!" He zipped right to where Carolina had indicated. Even without the speed booster, the mercenary was fast as hell.

Penn shook his head, and speaking to no one in particular, said "I'm leaving." He then calmly walked out of the facility. _I should probably contact him as soon as possible. _He thought to himself. He had to get this right, if he were to ever prove himself to his superior, he had to make a good impression. And get the job done. That too. _He _had trained to be a perfect soldier. _He _had put blood and sweat into this program, and had firmly believed in the Director's ideals, even after he had gotten word of his arrest and the revelation of what happened to the Alpha. But despite his efforts, they had always fussed over Texas. Now, Penn would get his due. Soon. Very soon.

As he exited the building he saw the first of his troops had arrived. Their were six of them, all in two Warthogs. _Perfect_. Without even an introduction, Penn barked orders. "Get a lock on my location and follow me. I'll alert you if I find anything." And with that, twin boosters extended out from Penn's back, and in moments, the freelancer was airborne.

From inside, he could vaguely hear Louie yelling. "**I'm gonna kill the goddamn bastard that stole mah speed unit! This sonbitch gonna suffer!**"

...

The last thing Tucker remembered was hearing the sound of minigun whirring up. The rest was a blur. He vaguely recalled acting on instinct and retreating. He also recalled rolling into a ditch for cover. Yeah, that explained why he was in a ditch, desperately dodging machine gunfire.

_Great._ Tucker thought. _This just keeps getting better and better. _Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed something fly overhead. Tucker thought it was bird.

Bird's don't carry assault rifles.

...

Simmon's commlink buzzed, and the transmission came through. "Help!" Tucker, Simmons assumed.

"What? What's going on?"

"Nothing much, just a couple of **jeeps of death **are raining **bullets of doom** down upon me!"

"...What?"

"He's being shot at by a couple of Warthogs! Dammit Simmons, we covered this in Hyperbole 101!" Sarge bonked his second in command on the head. "Let's get a move on. Contact the others, we're going to save Tucker!" He paused. "Again!"

...

Tucker stood crouched behind the rock he was using for cover. It wouldn't be long before the troopers in cars figured out shooting at solid rock didn't help matters much, and then he would be in trouble. _I always loved being in close proximity to rocks, but I don't want it to end like __**this**_!

A rocket fired, hitting the ground near one of the Warthogs. Tucker looked back and saw Simmons running his way while reloading the rocket. The rest of the Reds soon followed, firing at the vehicles. The tide had turned.

"Donut, radio Wash, ask if anything is going on at the camp!" Sarge barked, relishing in the Combat.

"Yes sir!" Before Donut could reach for commlink, it buzzed, and Wash spoke on the other side of it.

"What's going on? I hear gunfire."

"Oh hey Wash, I was just about to call you. Yeah, we're in a bit of trouble hear. Y'see, some guys in a couple Warthogs are shooting at us. It's really exciting! You should come over!"

"What? Okay, I'll be there-" The message shorted out.

"Well, What'd he say Donut?"

"I don't know, he stopped in mid-sentence! You know how rude that Wash character is, what with shooting people and all."  
"Grrr." Sarge grumbled. Now he had to go save Wash's ass. "You fellas stay here," The veteran sounded serious, and...less psychotic. " I'll go help Wash."

...

Wash hit the ground with a thud. Something had picked him up, and carried him for several feet before dropping him into the air.

Wash looked up, and saw the assailant flying directly down onto him. Wash rolled out of the way, barely escaping Pennsylvania's punch (which had made noticeable cracks in the ground.

Penn shrugged it off, and leveled the assault rifle at Wash. Wash, for the second time that day, rolled out of the way, but this time into an attack. He swiftly landed a punch into Penn's gut, before he himself was forced to dodge an incoming kick. A volley of kicks and punches followed next. Penn thrust his knee upward, knocking Wash off his footing. He responded with two swift jabs that were easily parried by Penn. Wash sprung into action. He was by no means the best fighter in Project Freelancer, but his resourcefulness and intelligence had allowed him to get out of more than one life threatening occasion.

In one rapid movement, Wash leapt over his opponent, taking his hands twisting them around to his back, disabling Penn (for a moment, at least).

"Sister, shoot him!" He frantically cried. Penn was already starting to overpower him, even in the position he was currently in.

"Yeah. 'bout that...I'm out of bullets."

"What? How-" He was flung forward several yards. Utilising his Wash's moment of weakness, Penn tossed a grenade right at Wash. He desperately to jump out of the way, but several shards of shrapnel embedded themselves in his leg.

Penn picked Washington up by the neck, strangling the cobalt soldier.

"You never were the best fighter Wash."

"Yeah, I was just thinking about that. Soldier boy."

His grip tightened. "Don't make fun of me for having ideals."

"Is that why you're here, for ideals?" Wash managed to sputter out.

"Don't take it personally Wash. You were in a situation similar to me recently." Wash continued to struggle underneath his grip. "You're my only ticket outta here. I'm not," his grip strengthened even more, "going back to prison."

The two freelancers stared each other down for several moments, before Penn got smacked in the face by the butt of a shotgun.

...

There ya have it! I thought it lagged a little in the middle, but, meh, I've been feeling a little down as of late, so, yeah. A couple end-of-chapter notes:

1. When I was writing Delta, I kept thinking of Soundwave. I think that speaks for itself.

2. I have plans, big plans, for this story. MWHAHAH!

Next up, Sarge reminisces (and kicks ass)!


	5. Reminiscence

Okay, a couple pre-chapter notes: The account of Sarges posttraumatic stress disorder is more than likely inaccurate, so please, don't be offended or point out how wrong I am. Still though, consider this me showing my respect to those who have put themselves on the line for the greater good (not the most fitting tribute, but It'll have to do.

Also, I'm not well acquainted with Halo cannon, so if anything is wrong, the same goes.

I'm just gonna jump right in here, so...yeah. Here I go.

…...

Sarge remembered. Barely.

He remembered training under Sgt. Johnson. The man was tough, and could have easily knocked Washington out in one blow with a jolly smile on his face. Though there were no laser beam eyes. _That he knew of_.

He remembered several successful against the innies. Then the Covenant attacked.

He remembered asking his sergeant what they thought would happen. The grizzled warrior popped a cigar into his mouth, and then turned his head to the (then) private. "Blow'em to bits, son."

He vaguely recalled being enlisted into the ODSTs. The first few drops had been...exhilarating, to say the least. In no time he had been promoted to be a sergeant, after all, he had the attitude. His cowboy persona and 'never say die' attitude had earned him the respect oh his peers.

His peers... faces he couldn't remember, with the exception of their bloodied faces in his dreams. Voices he heard only when he was alone. Emotions that left him cold.

…...

Plasma roared over Sarge's head. He motioned to the private beside him, a woman, to toss him some more shells. She shook her head.

"You can't be serious. Those jackals are at least 50 metres away. You'll miss."

"Dammit, give me the ammo. I'm getting in close!"

She nodded her head this time, agreeing. "We'll give you cover." The other ODSTs were quick to pick up on the plan. It impressed Sarge how quickly they adapted. The assault on Reach had worn everyone out, but Sarge's squad was so far one of the most successful.

He charged, guns a-blazing, stopping to take cover only a few seconds. The Jackals focused his fire on the others, not realizing the danger until it was too close. Sarge crept beside the on farthest left first, grabbing its saurian jaws, and tearing sideways. He raised his shotgun at the others. He was too close for them to effectively use their plasma rifles, and one by one they were stuffed with slugs.

He looked back to give his squad the thumbs up, before noticing something in the corner of his eye. Several dark figures jumped from behind a crumbling building, landing with a loud thud.

Sarge's eyes Brute swung the Spiker, cutting a deep gash into the head of the woman he had recently conversed with. The others fought back, killing several, all the while maintaining formation. The resistance was short lived, however, and the Brutes quickly overwhelmed them.

Sarge went blank after that, exhausting every round he had left while charging at the alien scum. Noticing he was empty, Sarge swatted the butt of his gun at the first Brute, killing it. The second lunged, heaving its half-ton body with surprising speed at the human.

He pulled out his knife, all he had left. He swiftly slashed it right across the monster's chest. Once more he slashed, cutting deeper into the same wound. Then, utilising his momentum, Sarge clasped his hands together and dove the knife deep into the alien's skull.

The brute took several steps back, shook its head several times, and lazily swung the giant hammer.

Sarge could feel nothing. His entire nervous system momentarily collapsed. All he knew was that his body was collapsing in on itself, crumpling like a piece of paper.

The Brute approached his limp body, examining it, before cringing as several rounds were loaded into its back. It turned around, just in time to meet a volley of bullets. Then, darkness...

…...

Sarge approached the screen. He had spent months in the infirmary, and even more time with the therapist. The therapy didn't really help.

Next thing he knew, he was shipped off for a 'special mission'.

"Sergeant." The screen acknowledged him, which was odd. The voice's originator appeared soon after, albeit digitally distorted. The voice sounding oddly calming, though at the same time Sarge was disturbed by the man's lack of emotion. "You were recently given permission to leave the infirmary which you have been stationed at for the past few months. Can you tell me why you were there?"

He paused, thinking. "I...kicked so much ass my foot was broken!" Sarge yelled, a sense of pride overwhelming him.

"Interesting. It says here that at the battle of New Alexandria, you were severely injured by a blow with a gravity hammer. The only reason you're still alive is because Sgt. Buck and his team managed to evacuate you out."

Sarge paused, thinking this over. "Well, obviously command has their papers mixed up!" He went on to grumble something about 'those damned hippies in office'.

The Councilor interrupted him. "That's quite enough." His eery face smiled uncharacteristically. "I believe we have the perfect assignment for you, Sergeant. A group of rebels have surfaced in the outer planets, calling themselves only 'The Blue Team'. We've sent several task forces to face them, but they are locked in a stalemate. You'll be assigned your own squad, and given your own base. Your designation is Red Team."

"Red Team," Sarge mused to himself, "I like the sound of that!"

…...

Looking back, it all made sense to Sarge now. They thought he was to psychotic for actual battle, so they shipped him off to a place where his zany plots would only cause annoyance, and no harm.

They thought he was crazy, and maybe he was. But he had fought too hard to keep his men, his friends, even Grif, alive. And he sure as hell wasn't going to let some punk ass Freelancer change any of that.

"Hey mister Freelancer! How'd you like a fancy led sandwich with a side of **death**!" Sarge trudged onto battle once more.

…...

Phew! This is actually the chapter that I'm most proud of. I always wondered why, if Sarge was an ODST, he ended up as a Project Freelancer's test dummy, so this is my hypothesis (different from a theory, and don't you forget it!).

Sorry to those of you who wanted to see some Sarge vs Pennsylvania action, its coming up next!

Toodles!


	6. Crouching Puma, Hidden Sarge

I must apologize for the long hiatus (and the chapter title, while I'm at it), but the all-governing entity known as school caught up with me, so yeah, that's that.

Yes, my readers, I've been exposed! Sarge _is _my favorite character, next to Wash. He's easily one of the funniest (and most bad ass) guys in the entire series, so I did show a lot of favoritism to him in the last chapter.

Now this next one is mostly all fight scenes. It's not even going to compare to being able to see Monty's work on screen, but it'll have to do.

Also, for visual reference, imagine Penn in Mark V armor and in a darkish green color, kinda like Master Chief, since they're both kinda the ideal soldier (it makes sense!).

Also: Listen to the song "Sarge's Blues" from the Revelation soundtrack while reading. Tis awesome.

…...

**Boom! **

A shower of dirt landed several meters next to the Warthog. _Damn_, Simmons thought. _Someone must fucking with the lock-on when I'm not looking, 'cause this isn't hitting anything! _He was beginning to run low on rockets, and Sarge would **not** be happy about that. He could hear the old man's reprimanding voice now, yelling at him and telling him what a failure he was. But then, Simmons hoped, he would wrap an arm around Simmons' shoulder and apologize-

"Simmons! Are you fantasizing about Sarge again?" Grif's voice brought him back to reality. "Goddammit man, help us shoot!"

"Sorry." He mumbled while taking aim with the rocket launcher. He glanced at his comrades. Grif was shooting, Donut (attempting) to snipe, and Tucker who seemed to be waiting for the right moment to lunge with the sword.

"Hold it. I'm going out there." Tucker spoke, with a surprising amount of ambition.

"What? They'll turn you into swish cheese!"

"Not unless you guys cover me!"  
Simmons and Grif stared blankly at the teal soldier. "And this is just occurring to you now?"  
Tucker snorted. "I didn't see you guys coming up with a genius tactical plan!"

"Just go stab the bad guys!"

…...

Sarge fired his shotgun, but Pennsylvania activated his jetpack, boosting sideways. Flying around in a long arc, he tackled Sarge down. He recovered, but as soon as he got back up the freelancer knocked him down again. And again. And again.

Sarge quickly realized that he needed to change his strategy. Going in guns a blazing hadn't worked. Time to get sneaky.

Grabbing two grenades, he chucked him at the place (he guessed) Penn would fly to after taking him down again. Lucky guess.

The force of the grenades sent Penn flying at an uncontrollable speed. Sarge watched the soldier carefully for several seconds, and then clotheslined the green freelancer, and then violently putting him into a headlock.

"Ha! Not so tough now that you can't zip around in yer' jetpack, are yer'?"

Penn smirked inside his helmet. "Who says I can't?"  
Sarge was knocked off his feet once again as Penn rose straight up into the air. Pulling out his assault rifle, Penn took aim.

…...

Tucker leapt into the fray. The soldiers were currently to busy to notice the lone trooper, which Tucker used to his advantage. He slashed the jeep's tires, incapacitating the vehicle. Once trooper, the driver, looked down at him.

He was stabbed in the face.

The other soldiers quickly jumped out of the hog, opening fire on Tucker. He moved swiftly, and _swished_ one guy across the chest. One of the trooper's teammates attempted hit him with the but of his gun. Tucker _swished_ again, slicing the poor fellow's arm down the middle. The final opponent kept shooting. Diving forward, Tucker _stabbed_ him right through the crotch. The soldier's eye's widened, and then he slumped, dying of humiliation.

"Oooh.,sorry dude." Tucker's victory was short lived. The other jeep slowly turned its gun towards him. Tucker mentally slapped himself. There were **two **Warthogs.

Dodging the incoming volley of bullets, Tucker radioed Simmons. "Shoot you're rocket now Simmons!"

"Okay!" Simmons answered back, used to being told what to do. The missile fired, heading straight for the hog.

_Gotta time this just right..._ Tucker threw his plasma grenade into the air, watching it latch onto the rocket.

**Boom!**

…...

Agent Pennsylvania was pissed. And now he was going to kill this sonnaofabitch who _dared _get in the way of his superior's plans.

Penn didn't fire a single round. Sarge jumped up, surprising considering his age, and dragged the freelancer back to Earth (or...wherever they are). If there was one thing Sarge knew how to do, it was a good old fashioned beat down. Well, that and hate Grif.

Sarge threw a punch. Penn took it and responded with his own, Sarge blocked it. Sarge punched back, while Penn threw several quick jabs. Penn thrust his knee up, fazing Sarge for a second.

Sarge's ears picked up on something. Something he heard at least 12 times. The sound of a Warthog crashing around, coming in their direction. Thinking fast, Sarge punched Penn with what little energy he had left in him. Grabbing the freelancer's back, Sarge kicked him forward, inadvertently tearing the jetpack off. Right into the seat of the hog that was currently rolling right past them in midair.

"You. Just. Got.** Sarge'ed!"**

The jeep crashed into a nearby tree, with the moaning Penn laying down in the seats. He looked to his side to see a plasma grenade about to detonate.

"Oh son of a..." Penn was launched a good 15 metres into the air. Sarge grinned wildly.

Holding onto the jetpack, he pressed the switch, (he guessed) would activate it.

Again, lucky guess.

Flying through the air, Sarge spotted Pennsylvania. Slowing the jetpack down, while leaning forward, he kicked with both feet. The speed of his attack, combined with the sheer force of the kick, sent Penn flying far into the distance.

Landing, Sarge patted the jetpack softly, as if telling it it did a good job. "I could used to this!"

…...

Penn looked on at the blazing pile of scrap that used to be his armor, the fire's light reflecting in his eyes. He looked down at his comm link. Sighing, he snatched it up and began to lock on to his superior's frequency.

"Sir, I've been compromised."  
"Hm." The voice on the other end sounded dully interested.

"What is you plan of action, sir?"

"You may pick me up at the designated coordinates in several hours." The voice spoke in a long, southern drawl. "All is going according to plan."

"Yes sir."

Heartily chuckling, the voice replied. "You needn't be so formal Theodore. Please, call me Church."

…...


	7. Let's Talk

Again, sorry for late update time. Once a month ain't bad though, right? The next three chapters (guesstimate, mind you) will be a turning point in the story, so stay tuned!

…...

Wash rubbed his head, his blurred vision clearing enough for him to see Sarge's outstretched hand. Taking it, Wash glanced at the tired group of rejects before him (though Wash was still debating if "rejects" was too generous a word).

"So... how'd it go?"

An awkward silence ensued. Tucker was the first to speak.

"We're all alive, if that's what you're asking." Wash noticed the the teal soldier cringe slightly as he spoke.

"You're shot." Wash stated, as if the reality that these bozos, who always seemed to luck their way out of any situation, could wind up getting hurt.

Tucker looked down as if just noticing it himself. "Yeah, must've happened when I lunged at em'."

"You _fought_ them?" Today was just full of surprises.

"I _killed _them!" Tucker puffed his chest out proudly, showing off his machismo, before cringing again. "Bitch!" he groaned, falling to the ground.

Doc hurried to the swordsman's side, and looked at Wash. Wash nodded. "You take care of him, the rest of you..." Sensing the fatigue coming from both teams, Wash decided to be sympathetic. Just this one time. "...sit tight. I'm gonna go scout out the perimeter." Turning to leave he looked back one last time, just to make sure that no one had blown something up in the last two seconds (which, unfortunately, was a possibility).

Both Red and Blue teams slumped to the ground, exasperated. Sarge, however, managed to get one last word in edgewise. "Did you see that? I kicked freelancer ass! And no one says a thing! What's a matter, can't you people even appreciate a good ass-kickin' anymore?

…...

Washington knew this was a gamble. But nowadays, _everything _was. Taking a deep breath, he spoke. "You can come out now." It was cliche, but with freelancers, you could never be too careful.

After several seconds passed, Wash began to suspect he was wrong, and that he was just yelling at no one but himself. But then he heard the bushes rustle. In one swift move he pulled out his battle rifle, prepared to face down whoever was there.

Wash was, frankly, unsurprised to see the freelancer before him.

"You were never very good at stealth, Carolina. That was Tex's department."

"Don't go there Wash, you'll regret." This was not the Carolina he had know, Washington could tell already. Despite retaining her light green armor, she was much angrier, and probably more unstable. _Having two AIs will do that, _he mentally noted.

…...

_"You ready Wash?" Carolina smiled widely at him._

_ Wash nervously fumbled his helmet in his hands. "...Not exactly thrilled..."_

_ She nudged him with her elbow angrily. "What's there to not be thrilled about? We're about to become bonified super-soldiers!" Wash still looked unsure. He eyed the other freelancer applicants. One British soldier looked disinterestedly at the others, while two twins argued. Constantly. On the other side of the ship, a highly decorated soldier sat straight up with a staunch look on his face._

_ Yeah, Wash thought ironically, this is going to real fun._

…...

_Which brings us to the present. _He thought bitterly.

"I'm sure I would _already _be regretting it if you had any intention of hurting me. So talk."

"Don't presume to order me around Wash. I still haven't forgotten that you're the reason we were all put in prison." She accusingly pointed a finger at him.

"So why'd you get out?" Wash inquired, though he already knew the answer.

"To bring you in." She paused, the tension leaving her body. "I'm surprised you're so calm about this. You should see what they gave Okie. _An entire fucking army, _that's what! They want you dead Wash!"

"Then why haven't you killed me?" He demanded, perhaps a bit too roughly. People trying to kill him, that he was used to. But if you're going to kill someone, do it and don't fuck with their heads. It reminded him too much of the Director, the way he used to toy with them. Well, that and the fact it was goddamn confusing.

"Because there's more to it than simply killing you. Penn was up to something, and apparently these idiots you've slumming around with have vital... stuff. "  
Flabbergasted, Wash struggled to find the right words. "... About what stuff?"

She sighed, shaking her head. "Some deep shit Wash." She began to recite the list of intel. "The black one is integral to human-Covenant relations, the idiot-"

"They're all idiots Carry." _Tucker's black?_

"The _blue _idiot then. He's got loads of AI secrets stashed in his head. The red idiot is considered a threat to the whole of mankind, the yellow idiot stole a speed unit from the storage facility, and the maroon idiot hacked into Freelancer HQ's system."

"So basically five eights of our team are fugitives." _Fucking A. _"Wait, that still doesn't explain why you haven't killed me!"  
"Because Penn was up to something! Something big." Eyeing him closely, she sighed. "And you and these idiots are gonna help me find out what."

…...

If you read this, review. It's only polite. SO REVIEW.


	8. Damn Frontstabbers

I'm so, so sorry for the long wait. It was just me be lazing before, but family stuff came up, y'know. I'ma retcon a couple stuff, cuz I've got a new direction for this fic. Instead of actually rewriting the thing, I'm just gonna take the lazy way out and say that the Oklahoma doesn't exist. Maybe in another fic, but he's retconned out in this one. Carolina is teal, BTW. Forget her being green. Thats important. Thanks to my reviewers, and so sorry for keeping you waiting.

…...

"No. Fucking. Way."

"...Look, I'm not happy about this either-"

"We don't even know you!"

"We've been over this Simmon's, we can trust her."

This exchange had started as soon as the Reds had laid eyes on the remote UNSC Detainment Facility. The Red Team were very, very (_utterly and horrifically_, Wash made sure to mentally add) vocal in there reluctance to infiltrate the base. Simmons was the most vocal. He'd been arguing with Carolina and him for well over 20 minutes. Grif had tossed around some mildly annoying comments, criticizing both Wash and Simmons. _No help_, Wash thought. Sarge had remained oddly quiet throughout most of the exchange. _Still no help._

"The last time we went into a base with you, it didn't turn out so well." Simmons continued.

"What are you talking about? It went _exactly _as planned."

"You planned on losing Church?"

The group went silent. Both Wash and Simmons were surprised by the latter's quip. Everyone else had frozen. Caboose in particular looked downtrodden.

Simmons voice fell to a whisper. "That was uncalled for... sorry. It won't-"

"Forget about it." Wash cut him off. That's what he said, but he thought about responding with an uppercut. _Of course I didn't plan on it. He was __**The Alpha**__ for God's sake. Not to mention a friend. I may not have known him like the other's did, but I didn't want him to die._

"The point is, if we even want a chance at getting out of this mess, we're gonna have to brake in there and have a little chat."

"You're gonna risk our lives... to talk with some guy in prison."

"We," Carolina spoke again. Her tone was serious, and Simmons was frightened by that. And the fact that she was a girl. He got nervous around girls. "are going to talk with the Director."

Simmons sighed, interrupting again. "Okay, who the fuck is that, and why the fuck are you going to do that?" If she hadn't been wearing a helmet, one could have seen Carolina's eye twitch. Right before she jumped forward and lifted a knife to his neck.

"He's the reason you're stuck here. He's responsible for the deaths of countless simulation troopers, Freelancers, and AI. And worst of all" She brought his face in close. "He's the reason I'm crazy."

"Mother!" Simmons yelped out before being tossed to the ground with a thud.

Wash calmly observed the scene before interjecting. "To answer your other question, we're talking to him because he knows this rock. inside and out. He knows which areas are inaccessible and which one's have safe houses. Besides... I'd like some answers." He paused briefly, letting everything sink in. "OK... here's the plan. Carolina and I are infiltrating. Doc, Sister, Tucker, you stay here. Doc, take care of Tucker. You guys will need to cover our exit. Red team, you and Caboose," he glanced at the blue soldier warily. "will distract the guards."

"OK, how are we supposed to do that?" Simmons spoke again, nervously glancing at Carolina.

"I don't know, blow shit up!"

For the first time since their last fight, Sarge spoke up. "That, I can do." This was promptly followed by the sound of a shotgun being pumped.

…...

(Several minutes later)

**BOOM!**

Wash lifted his head up. "That'd be our cue. 'Lina, get the door."

"With pleasure." She planted several sticky 'nades on the door befor kicking it off its hinges and sending flying into the room. She ducked back across the wall. A large explosion followed. Wash and Carolina rushed into the room, weapons raised. They scanned the room, making sure all the guards had been killed before moving on.

After traversing a long, stone corridor, they came to the holding cell they were looking for. Wash knelt down to the holographic lock, and began hacking it. This would take some time.

"Hey Wash." Carolina tapped on his shoulder.

"What? What is it?"

"Who's Church?"

Wash paused. This was bad. "Church is... was the Alpha." Wash completely expected her to react negatively. He only half expected her to to shove his head against the wall. Oh well.

"You... lost... the Alpha." She spoke it with such kindness, and yet such hatred.

"He sacrificed himself to take out Maine and the other AI's. He wanted to do it."

Carolina shook all over. "No.. nonononononon! We need the Alpha, we must find the Alpha! The Alpha will make us whole!"

_She's relapsing._ "Carolina, listen, I'll give you the details of what happened soon. But now," In one swift motion he twisted her wrist and swung her into the wall. "I _need you to focus_." Carolina shook for several more seconds before gathering herself and relaxing.

"I'm... I'm fine. Let's do this."

"Good." Wash punched put the finishing touches on the lock, before opening the door. This would be a problem in the future. Hell, everything'd be a problem sooner or later. _Delta, Indy, the Chairman_. But now he only had one person to worry about. And he was right-

"Greetings, Agent Washington. Please have a seat. I'm sure you have a lot of questions that you'd like answered. Let us see what we can do about that."

…...

So, what'd ya think? Suggestions are welcome, as is criticism. PLEASE REVIEW. Its polite and helpful. SO DO IT.

Again, SORRY about the wait.


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